


Family doesn't end in bloodshed

by GrellofSutcliff



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:32:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrellofSutcliff/pseuds/GrellofSutcliff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has that dorky family member who obsesses over geeky things, makes nerdy comments and spends most of their time wishing they had superpowers... Even the Winchesters...</p><p>Bobby played father figure to more people than you think... 15 years ago he played make shift father to a 6 year old girl who adored him wanted to grow up to be just like her uncle Bobby! Her father became hell bent on hunting down a demon that dragged them half way across the county for 13 years making life very hard for the now 21 year old girl with more daddy issues than Sam and Dean combined.</p><p>Because that sure doesn't spell disaster...!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family doesn't end in bloodshed

I knew full well this was a horrible idea every ounce of my being knew this was a bad idea. This was so like me to get so hooked on an idea that my mind knew no boundaries of right and wrong common sense had long abandoned me in my quest for answers. The long painfully straight road seemed like it went on for a lifetime not once meeting a kink or a twist if left little to the imagination all that could be seen for miles was a black strip of tar lined with yellow. The heat from above blurred the end distance, honestly who in their right mind wanted to live in South Dakota? The old pot hole ridden road i knew better than the back of my hand i could drive it backwards with my eyes closed and never once hit a single hole. An old junk yard full of beaten up cars and scarp metals always brought a warmth to my heart, the rusted sign over the drive way read 'Singer Auto Salvage Yard.

 

Pulling to a stop just under it was now that i really questioned if this was the best idea everything seemed quiet and for anyone who knows this place it was a very bad sign. Other hunters would tell you that its a good thing but i wanted an excuse to turn and run... I'm not an easy scared person but i was a person who knew better than to show up after 15 years on an old drunks doorstep, and old drunk whom once upon a time used to be the closest thing i had to a real father not that he would admit this but Uncle bobby for the better part of my younger years raised me and put up with everything from playing barbies to letting me bush and braid his hair (what hair he had).

 

Swallowing my pride is shifted gears and started up the gravel entrance. Lined along both sides of the dive way had been the same cars that he had let me play hide and seek in, sure it was dangerous but most of these cars hadn't moved and inch since the 80's. A head and old dirty blue house came into view nothing had changed at all it still needed a fresh coat of paint and the hubcaps are still nailed to the side of the house some of them i remember the story behind cause if theirs one thing about bobby singer you should know its that the old geezer is a sucker for sentimentalism. The same 68 Ford F-350 tow truck sat where it always sat waiting for an excuse to be used but never will be cause the old pile of junk never started when you needed it it honestly surprised me to see the same plates on it i knew those plates better than any others: 9NO3L1, those plates are older than i am. Curious if it still runs the same? just another thing he said he'd get around to fixing but never does being typical Bobby.

 

Cutting the engine i questioned once again if this was really a wise thing to do considering the real reason for my visit. Before i pushed open the drivers side door of a car that stood out like a sore thumb in the lot full of American mussel cars i grabbed the bottle of aged whiskey from the seat beside me slamming the door shut with my hip. Walking up the muddy path towards the house i got an odd feeling of being home something that i haven't felt in a while. At my feet laid a rusted chain with an old collar attached to it without question it was Rumsfeld's poor old thing... I loved that dog to bits for houses it sit and plat the old Rottweiler telling it about this that and everything the big softy never once snarled at me or barked at me for pulling its tail like every child does at some point. Hurt me to step over the chain without petting the dog like i would every time id come home from school to uncle Bobby's.

 

The old porch steps creaked under me is made my way to the door, no surprised that the paint had been chipping and peeling, the glass had a layer of grime on it so thick you couldn't see inside clearly. Using my knuckles to knock for a second i worried that the door wouldn't stay upright. The heavy foot steps id know anywhere stomped up the hall to the door "what the hell do you want?" clearly i had woken the old drunk from his nap unintentionally "Bobby" i didn't even need to think twice about it this was my uncle Bobby with the same unkempt face fur and the squinted eyes in a lasting glare that only made his dark eye circles worse and worse... Sure he had aged a lot in 15 years but it how i remembered him "Yeah what's it to ya!" i hadn't been on the receiving end of the angry bobby before but now i really did want to turn and run. I quickly lifted my hand to show him the bottle in my hand he looked at it for a second reading the label then looking back at my face with the confused face only bobby could do i was waiting for him to pull me in for a hug like he used to do after not seeing me for a while but he didn't "What in the hell are you doing with that kid?" maybe i should explain? My father and bobby had gone back many years more than any of them wanted to admit but the fact was they had made a druk pat one night that if one of them died before the other they would get the bottle of aged whiskey that they had been saving. Rightfully it was now his "I think you know why i have it, December 25th 2009... Sorry it took so long to get it to you" i hand the old bottle to him carefully with an old fraying ribbon around the neck holding a smaller vile "what's this goofer dust?" he looked at it closer "Human goofer dust...." i corrected him with a empty smile that he never returned "you 21? Join me for a drink?".

 

I couldnt say no to Uncle bobby, never could and never would "never did catch your name kid" he sat down across from me at the kitchen table the same table i remember sitting at a lot with him whilst he'd reheat me some odd concoction of foods saying that it was the best damn meal he'd ever cooked "I didn't say" as he poured the strong smelling whiskey into a glass for me "aren't you just the social butterfly" he had gotten more bitter over the years i could tell but i Didnt expect anything less from him "not gonna lace my drink with holly water?" i had watched him to it to many visitors drinks growing up always saying something to the effect of never to careful... Like that justified it "so you know the stories of me i take it?" he sipped his drink with a sly smile the one he gave when he was proud of himself. Admittedly i'm still a little hurt that he doesn't know its me, last I saw him i was only 6 and tottering around in the study drawing a picture for his fridge i think my reasoning was it was to boring? "you don't remember me do you?"


End file.
